


Will And The Wolfdog

by WhimsicalRealist



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1658720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalRealist/pseuds/WhimsicalRealist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is in the habit of finding dogs and taking them in, but this time, one simply invites himself into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will And The Wolfdog

Will Graham had a pack of dogs to call his own. They were his family. All of them, to his recollection, were strays he found one way or another. Save for one.

Hannibal had found him.

He was a handsome breed known as the Czechoslovakian wolfdog. Oddly enough, he seemed to have maroon colored eyes. Will often wondered who his original owners had been; who would let such a dog out of their sights? But there he was one night as Will was out for a walk. He had a leather collar with a tag that gave his name: Hannibal. There was nothing to say where he belonged, however. No street address, no phone number, nothing. Assuming he must belong to a neighbor, Will intended to continue on alone. But Hannibal had followed him quietly, alert yet curious. When he unlocked his front door when he got home, the dog had simply let himself in alongside the human he had chosen.

There were never any posters looking for Hannibal. When he took the dogs out into the yard, no one ever stopped by to claim him. After a while, Will knew it was clear that the new addition was there to stay.

Soon enough, the new dog would show Will just how clever he was.

 

Some days he would return late from work, coming in the front door full of apologies and promises of bowls of food to be distributed promptly, only to find that the door to the pantry was open and the bag of food spilled into their collection of bowls. None of them had overeaten and they all lay comfortably in their beds by the fireplace. Save for Hannibal, who was always seated right in the hallway facing the door. Waiting.

“Hannibal, did you do this?” he asked.

Hannibal tilted his head to one side before getting up and padding to Will’s side. He never seemed to wag his tail, but Will could tell well enough when the dog was pleased. He would clean up the mess and make a note to himself to get a child lock for the pantry door.

It didn’t help. After the fifth or sixth time, he gave up.

 

Other times, when Will would turn the dogs loose outside, Hannibal would come back some hours later with breath that smelled of the hunt. He could never confirm anything, as the dog kept himself eerily well groomed. No spot of blood or bits of gore stuck in his teeth. But the lingering scent of a kill could not easily be cleared with water from a stream and licking.

Not that he would connect this with a slight increase in lost dogs in the surrounding neighborhoods, of course.


End file.
